


a catalogue of reminiscence

by FreudianNightmare



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Miya twin dynamics, Original Female Character - Freeform, OsaSuna if you squint even more, POV Miya Osamu, Post-Timeskip Spoilers, sakuatsu if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26819557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreudianNightmare/pseuds/FreudianNightmare
Summary: To an outsider, their bet may have seemed like a manifestation of their pettiness. To the twins, it had essentially restored the balance in their world. Saying that Osamu and Atsumu were competitive would be a gross understatement. Affronted by their shared DNA, they chose to take it out on each other by engaging in a perpetual contest to prove that they were the better twin. If you cannot manage to stand out, you’re bound to be lumped together and there is nothing the either of them hated more. Hence, the dyed hair. The opposite partings. The insistence on first names.This is why the bet was important. Because it restored the competition that they both seemed to thrive off when volleyball could no longer be their common ground.A character study in four parts where Osamu’s employee sets in motion a series of events that helps the Miya twins come to terms with their differences.
Relationships: Brief mention of Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu
Comments: 5
Kudos: 51





	a catalogue of reminiscence

Part 1

On the farthest wall of Miya Onigiri, with the staff entrance to the kitchen to the right and the wash basins to the left, there hangs a singular framed picture. In the picture, an 18 year old Miya Atsumu is seen grinning ear to ear, eyes closed, with a trophy in one arm, his other arm tackling his twin in a half bear hug, who mirrors his expression, a fist raised in triumph. If you squint, you can make out their jersey numbers; 1 and 2 respectively. The captain and the vice-captain of the Inarizaki boys’ volleyball club. The winning team of the 2014 Spring High Nationals, or ‘haruko’ as the locals call it.

The picture was a gift; Osamu’s newest employee, a university student and a part-time chef had given it to him about a month after he had hired her. “The wall looks kind of bare. This should help,” Akiko had nodded as he had unwrapped the carefully packed frame, recognition dawning on his face at the sight of the familiar photograph. Osamu had only blinked at her in confusion. 

Despite Akiko’s (surprisingly well researched) arguments about what an excellent marketing strategy it would be, Osamu had not wanted to hang that particular picture there. He knew only too well just how smug Atsumu would get at what would be seen as his brother getting all nostalgic over his past volleyball triumphs. The notion of being subjected to that signature condescending smirk that his idiot brother was so famous for made Osamu clench his fists in anticipated rage. He had a bet to win after all. He certainly could not afford to appear sentimental, or worse regretful. Besides, Osamu refused to milk his high school volleyball career or his brother’s celebrity for the sake of profits. He was perfectly capable of running a successful business on his own, thank you very much. He had said as much to Akiko. 

“But people love stories, Osamu-san! And the first-time customers always mistake you for Atsumu-san..” she flinched under the glare he directed at her at those words but continued, undeterred “..so we end up having to explain to them anyway.” Osamu had to admit that was a valid point. “And it’s not like it’s a childhood picture of Atsumu-san that you’re using as a cheap promotional tactic. You’re in there too. It was your victory too” Akiko had finished earnestly. 

Even after that, Osamu had not immediately agreed but Akiko had been relentless and frankly, he was running out of excuses. “Where the hell did ya even find that picture?” he’d asked her the day he’d finally given in. “Oh I’ve had that issue of Monthly Volleyball saved since 2014” she had replied brightly.

And sure enough, the customers tended to ask about the picture and ooh and aah as his employees enthusiastically chronicled the accomplishments of the young Miya twins. Osamu was not entirely comfortable with these exchanges (He was not his brother after all). But these customers were twice as likely to return. Osamu hated admitting it but it was an excellent marketing strategy. 

He had all but forgotten about his initial reluctance until Atsumu finally staggered in, unannounced, one evening after practice. After slumping into his designated stool near the counter with all the grace of a drunk coyote, it had taken the MSBY setter under 6 seconds to notice the picture. Osamu had cut off whatever smug remark Atsumu was about to throw at him with a rehearsed explanation of exactly what their final year spring tournament picture was doing on the wall of his onigiri shop and how it was strictly business. “I get tired of bein’ mistaken as yer ugly ass.” Atsumu’s retort was once again cut short, this time by Akiko bringing him his usual tuna onigiri, giving Osamu a knowing wink. Atsumu dived right in and whined between bites, about whatever new volleyball concern had gotten him down. Osamu listened with feigned disinterest and an occasional sarcastic remark, as was their custom. The picture lay forgotten, at least for the moment. 

While he would never admit to his idiot brother in a million years, Osamu had grown rather fond of that picture. He would often glance at it and smile to himself when he thought no one was looking (whenever Akiko did notice, she was tactful enough to keep it to herself). It was _their_ victory after all. A token of their partnership. A pleasant reminder of their hard work, their passion, their accomplishment. Even though Osamu had chosen not to pursue that particular passion professionally, even though his brother had, and racked up many more, arguably more prestigious victories, it did not give him the monopoly on volleyball. It did not make that specific victory any less meaningful. Osamu was grateful for having been reminded of that.

Part 2

“Na, Samu” Atsumu drawled, gazing at the picture on the wall at the far end.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t you ever miss it?”

Osamu winced. He was taken aback at the earnestness of it, the question had not been accompanied by his brother’s usual sneer. Perhaps that was what stopped Osamu from brushing it off or lying outright.

He considered it. It was a simple question really. But coming from his brother, it carried the weight of unspoken resentment, (diluted, though it was, by time) that neither of them had the energy or the inclination to unpack.

The Miya twins had essentially parted ways on court after high school, with Osamu having decided not to follow his brother into the world of professional volleyball (although not for the lack of skill). Atsumu being Atsumu had not taken it well and what followed may have been their most intense fight till date, ending with a lifelong competition, a bet to prove which of them had it better. Considering the frequency with which they bickered, the twins had always been quick to resolve their differences, which mostly consisted of pretending that nothing had happened in the first place and moving on. The Miya twins didn’t do apologies. Well, this was their biggest difference yet and its resolution demanded a little more than either of their egos would allow. They had moved on after a few days of residual, icy silence. Osamu couldn’t fault his brother’s single-minded dedication to volleyball and Atsumu was too much of a sucker for his brother’s cooking to not support his culinary ventures. So they got along just fine. But the air had never been cleared. 

What Osamu (and even Atsumu for that matter) did not realise was that Osamu quitting volleyball had made Atsumu feel rejected. Osamu wasn’t just abandoning the sport that they both adored (or so he, Atsumu, thought) he was also abandoning his brother, because volleyball was too big a part of Atsumu for him to not take it personally. Meanwhile, Atsumu’s all-consuming love for volleyball blinded him to the notion that not everyone who played shared his sentiment. Or matched his intensity, to be more precise. I mean, how could they not? This lack of comprehension exasperated Osamu. 

Although that was not its intentional purpose, the spring tournament picture had been the perfect olive branch. To Atsumu it was reassurance that their time together on court had meant just as much to his brother as it had to him. It was reassurance that he would neither admit he needed nor ever ask for. More importantly, it allowed Osamu to give him that reassurance without risking any reciprocal smugness, his ego intact.

“ ‘Course I do” Osamu admitted with a sigh, not quite meeting his brother’s eyes. Why did it feel so much like admitting defeat?

A grin spread across Atsumu’s face. Once again, the lack of malice took Osamu by surprise.

“Jaa, let’s play together again sometime then”

Despite himself, Osamu grinned back. “Ye got it.”

(“Ye better not have gotten rusty”)

(“Shut up, Sumu.”)

Part 3

Miya Osamu was not a sentimental person. He would argue that at least he was not crass like his brother. But he had always considered himself above such petty sentimentalities as picture frames and birthday cards. Of course the former was no longer true, Akiko had made sure of that. But it looked like there was more where that came from. 

“What if we added a couple more frames to that wall?” Akiko was standing in front of the said picture, hands on her hips, nose slightly scrunched as if the sight offended her but she wasn't sure why. Osamu groaned.

The Miya household did not believe in mantel displays of parental pride. Over the course of their childhood, the twins had put together a rather impressive collection of accolades owing to their superior athleticism, further fuelled by their competitiveness. Whenever either of the twin came home with a trophy or a certificate, their mother made it a point to neatly pack it up in a designated box in the attic, once they were done showing it to the rest of the family. “You can have a shrine once yer dead”, she would say in response to their protests. It wasn’t that their parents were not proud of them, no. Quite the opposite. This was simply their way of making sure their sons didn’t grow overly satisfied with their past achievements and slacked off. A lesson in modesty, if you will.  
In high school, their volleyball club banner seemed to echo their parents’ sentiment. _Omoidewa nanka iran_. We don’t need memories. Volleyball was a sport where you were always required to look up, look forwards, to the next serve, the next play, the next set, the next match. The moment you waste precious seconds and mental space dwelling on that last botched up play, got too complacent after that last service ace, you have already lost. In volleyball, there is no room for clinging to the glories of past and failures alike. Yesterday is gone. So, what will you do today?

To the Miya twins, like most of their peers, this was more of a challenge than a philosophy.

So yes. The thought of decking the wall in memorabilia nauseated Osamu. It went against everything he stood for. He had made an exception with the spring tournament picture and he did not regret it. But it was starting to seem like a slippery slope.

In the end, it had been _Atsumu_ who had convinced him.

“Think of it as keeping score” 

Osamu and Akiko had been in the middle of another of their now-frequent discussions about that whether or not the wall should have more pictures. Atsumu, who seemed to have joined forces with Akiko in matters regarding Onigiri Miya’s décor, had chimed in, between mouthfuls of rice. 

“…I’m listening”

“We each get half the wall to display our professional triumphs. Pictures, news clippings, anything. Like a highlight reel of our lives. The first one to run outta room wins.”

“You’ll just plaster yer stupid face all over my wall.”

“Hey! Have some faith in me, will ya? Besides, Akiko here can veto the displays and make sure the wall stays tasteful. Right, Aki-chan?”

“Uhh sure?”

“Great! Its settled then!”

_“When we’re on our deathbeds, I’m gonna turn and look you right in yer face and say I had the happier life!”_ , Atsumu had screamed at his brother, his words dripping with animosity.

To an outsider, their bet may have seemed like a manifestation of their pettiness. To the twins, it had essentially restored the balance in their world. Saying that Osamu and Atsumu were competitive would be a gross understatement. Affronted by their shared DNA, they chose to take it out on each other by engaging in a perpetual competition to prove that they were the better twin. If you cannot manage to stand out, you’re bound to be lumped together and there is nothing the either of them hated more. Hence, the dyed hair. The opposite partings. The insistence on first names. 

This is why the bet was important. Because it restored the competition that they both seemed to thrive off when volleyball could no longer be their common ground.

Part 4

On the farthest wall of Miya Onigiri, with the staff entrance to the kitchen to the right and the wash basins to the left, there now hang several framed pictures. At the dead centre of the wall, you can still see the triumphant Miya twins grinning against the backdrop of 2014 Spring finals. The picture that started it all. On the either side, there is an assortment of newspaper clippings, magazine printouts and some photographs. The staff call it the ‘Miya wall of fame’. The customers always linger a moment or two in front of the wall on their way towards the wash basins. The regulars keep an eye out for any new additions. 

To the twins however, it is their personal scoreboard. 

The right side of the wall belongs to Osamu. With the spring tournament picture in the centre, diagonally to the right, there is a picture of Osamu arms folded, smiling at the camera standing in front of the newly opened Tokyo branch of Onigiri Miya. Next to it, there is a series of stellar reviews of Onigiri Miya carefully cut out from the culture sections of Asahi or Mainichi shinbun. (there is also one in English from The Japan Times). The best 3 had made the wall. The top right corner is occupied by a portrait of Osamu and his manager Mizusawa Yuji, a trophy in hand, standing in front of their stall at the B-1 Grand Prix 2019, the local B-kyuu gurume food festival and contest, held in Akashi, Hyogo that year. (Osamu had been especially determined to win that one). Below that, there is a picture of what appears to be a rice field in the wee hours of morning, the first rays of the sun bouncing off the the grains, ready to be harvested, bathing the field in a warm, golden hue. Osamu had taken that picture the morning after he had officially signed on as a partner at Kita Farms (Best rice in Japan).

The left side of the wall belongs to Atsumu. To the immediate left of the spring tournament picture, there is a double page colour feature from Monthly Volleyball dedicated to the MSBY Black Jackals, the V-league champions of 2018-19. Printed and framed, it’s the largest picture on the wall. Below that, in a much smaller frame, there is what appears to be a screenshot of a twitter poll in which Miya Atsumu has been voted as the hottest player in men’s volleyball. Osamu wanted to take it down and replace it with something more tasteful but Atsumu had been adamant. (He beat that bastard Ushiawaka by a respectable margin! The picture stays!) Akiko, who Osamu strongly suspected had voted for Atsumu in the said poll, had agreed and so the picture stayed. Further left, there is a group photo of the Japanese team from the 2021 Olympics, huddled under the national flag. Atsumu is seen smirking at the camera, fourth from the right, sporting red like everyone else, number 11 visible on his front, left hand around a shorter, orange haired wing spiker wearing number 10. 

Miya Osamu was not a sentimental person. He didn’t believe in clinging to the glories of past. He didn’t need memories. He didn’t _need_ them, but was it so bad if he chose to cherish a select few anyway? Besides, it wasn’t like he was building himself a shrine. He was simply keeping score. Strictly business.

Epilogue

Tucked away in the corner, there is another cut out from Monthly Volleyball, a modestly sized photograph of a certain curly haired spiker in the process of slamming the ball across the net, his wrist bent at a freakish angle. On a closer look, you see Miya Atsumu in the bottom right corner, neck extended backwards, eyes on the ball he has just released from the tips of his finger, raised from one of his signature low sets. It’s not like Atsumu to put up an unflattering picture of himself, much less one where he is not even the subject of focus. Osamu had said as much, as Atsumu had arrived one evening, blushing furiously and marched right out after he was done hanging the frame 

A week later, Osamu understood why. He had been about to close up for the day when he happened to glance at his phone, flooded with notifications (which, among others, consisted of a series of texts, all-caps, and 3 missed calls from the Raijin’s middle blocker and an old teammate). All of twitter had seemingly lost their collective shit over a leaked picture of his brother and #SakuAtsu had become a trending topic. Osamu smirked. As he made to return the calls, (Sunarin was obviously expecting some tea) his eyes travelled to the now-crowded wall, lingering on that latest addition. 

It seemed like they had reached a deuce.

**Author's Note:**

> I fell down the SakuAtsu rabbit hole a few months ago and I’ve read so much amazing stuff since, it inspired me to do some writing of my own. I hope you enjoyed this!
> 
> Thank you [whowantstobattle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whowantstobattle/profile) for the beta read and for insisting that I post this.
> 
> With respect to Inarizaki winning the spring tournament and Black Jackals, the championship, I know one of the primary takeaways of haikyuu is that its not about winning and while I respect that, I just really wanted them to have this ok sue me.
> 
> Find out more about B kyuu gurume and B-1 grand prix [here](https://www.japantimes.co.jp/news/2015/09/09/business/b-class-cuisine-food-that-reflects-the-soul-of-the-people/)
> 
> Feel free to say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ishap999) although I’m not very active.
> 
> Finally, to paraphrase something Markus Zusak had said on a book tour; “The details are how you get them to believe you”. I hope I succeeded in doing that.


End file.
